


Unleashed

by crossroadswrite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternative Universe - Dystopia, Alternative Universe - Human, Child Soldiers, Heaven/Hell, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Deaths, Self-Loathing, Strong Language, of sorts, physical child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a city where two mafia families fight for control, everything is fair. Including kidnapping orphaned children to fight for them and work for them. This is the story of Castiel and how he became one of these families favorite 'pet'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I am not claiming ownership over any of it. Everything in here belongs to their rightful owners.

Nights are by far the most horrible part of the day. At least, that’s what Castiel thinks.  
If you asked any other kid why nights are bad they would say because there were monsters under their beds or because the shadows cast through their room windows scared the shit out of them. But that is if you asked kids from other cities, kids with parents in their houses to worry and protect them.  
The reality for the kids at the Roadhouse was drastically different. Every night, the kids were herded into the large room with two rows of beds against each wall, and the door would be locked. Every night they held their breaths and wished upon a star that the monsters didn’t broke into their little orphanage and snatched them away. And their monsters weren’t the fake ones either.   
Oh, no. Theirs were real monsters with shotguns and snarls on their faces, who kicked their door down and grabbed the first kid at hand to take back to one of the families.  
If you were really lucky you’d end up doing heavy work in the multiple warehouses, dealing with drugs or fake money. If you were really unlucky you’d probably end up in the sex slave business, being sold to the highest bidder and then shipped to whatever part of the world.  
Everyone knew this. Every orphaned kid knew this as a reality. Every orphanage director dreaded this. Even Miss Harvelle, with her tough ways and her caring bluntness, dreaded it. She put on a good façade, but you could tell how much she really feared it by the double locks in every door, the panic room in the basement, and the guns stashed around the house.  
The cops knew what was going on too, but they either didn’t give a shit about a bunch of snotty kids that had been taken out of the street or they were too focused counting the American presidents that made them shut their mouths.  
So, yeah. Nights were the worst.  
Castiel was huddled up in his bed, pillow propped up so he could lean comfortably against the headboard and a book on his hands. Balthazar was sitting up next to him on the bed, trying to pry his eyes from the book with blatant flirting, while Gabriel threw candy wrappers at him from the other bed.  
He huffed and glared at Gabriel and then at Balthazar.  
“Do you mind? I am trying to read.” He said as firmly as possible, facing the other two boys that were older than him.  
“Oh, come one, Cassie. Don’t be such a nerd. Let’s have some fun.”  
“Yeah.” Gabriel chimed in excitedly “Let’s dip Samandriel’s hand in a bowl of hot water or something. I bet we can make him piss the bed again.” He snickered.  
Little Samandriel let out an outraged sound from across the room.  
“Lay off of him.” Castiel huffed at both of them “And go to sleep. Miss Harvelle said that we shouldn’t make noise.” He advised, eyes returning to his book.  
“Oh, chill out Cassie.” Balthazar smirked at him, snatching the book from his hands and tossing it to Gabriel.  
“Hey.” Castiel almost shouted, wincing as he did “Give it back.” He complained.  
“No.” Gabriel answered getting up on his bed and tossing the book, over Castiel’s head and into Balthazar’s waiting hands.  
Balthazar kicked Castiel to the floor and got up on the bed as well, bouncing a little bit on the mattress.  
Castiel quickly scrambled to his feet turning a murderous glare towards the two boys.  
“Balthazar, give it back.”  
Balthazar tossed the book back to Gabriel, who caught it neatly and smirked mischievously at Cas. He waved it a little bit and then his grin turned salacious.  
“Trade it for a kiss.” He offered, puckering his lips and kissing the air in front of him.  
Castiel’s blush was immediate, starting on his neck and burning the tips of his ears.  
“Hey!” Balthazar complained, falling neatly on his ass with his legs hanging from the bed “I want one two.”  
Castiel snapped his head back at him with a menacing look. There were few things that could make Cas uncomfortable and sexual contact of any kind was rated top one, and these two assholes damn well knew it.  
“I will en-“  
The front door banged open and suddenly every kid in the room went quiet. The room tensed up so fast, that in any other environment it would be funny.  
Voices fluttered through the locked door, too muffled to be understood, and for a couple minutes nothing happened, and then it went quiet.  
Someone banged on the door.  
“Open up, it’s Ellen.”  
Jo jumped from her bed and rushed to the door, but was stopped by Gabriel who had jumped to the floor. All eyes were set on that piece of wood.  
Under no circumstances were they to open that door. Not even if it was Ellen on the other side. Well, not unless she used the key word.  
Gabriel nodded Castiel over, and he took the duty of grabbing Jo. The older boy cleared his throat and took a cautious step forward.  
“What happened to Lucy?” he asked carefully, one eye already set on the trap door across the room. Were Ellen to give the wrong answer all the kids should run through there.  
“He went to hell.” She said flatly. And just like that all the kids relaxed again, continuing whatever they were doing in the first place.  
Jo elbowed him in the ribs “That’s for grabbing me.” She sneered.  
“He grabbed you too.” Cas complained, pointing one finger at Gabriel.  
Jo scrunched up her forehead and then nodded, slapping Gabriel upside the head. The older boy stared at her indignantly as he pulled off the locks, so Ellen could open the door.  
Castiel snorted. It wasn’t every day that you saw an eight-year-old successfully whacking a seventeen-year-old upside the head and get away with it. He blamed it on her adorableness. The cute smile, missing a tooth in the front, and the sweep of blond hair which kept falling in her eyes.  
Cas’ attention snapped to Ellen when she walked in the room with two kids in toe.  
“This two troublemakers are Sam and-“  
“Dean!” Jo squealed throwing herself at the older boy who huffed a laugh at the tinny arms wrapped around him.  
“Heya, Jo.” He greeted with a smile, and ruffled her hair slightly. She swatted his hand away and stepped back, going to Sam for a hug next.  
“Dean and Sam are going to stay with us for a while.” Ellen informs “So be nice, because they can both kick your asses, right boys?” she asked, turning a fond smile on the two brothers.  
Dean smiled toothily “Damn right.” He answered with a wink.  
“Okay then. I’ll let you boys decide on the sleeping arrangements. Don’t get into trouble because that door ain’t opening again until eight next morning.” She pointed a finger at Dean.  
“Yes, m’am.” Both boys answered.  
Ellen smiled and bent down to drop a kiss on Jo’s forehead, making the girl scrunch up her face. And then straightening up again, ruffling Sam’s hair on her way out.  
Gabriel slid the locks back in place, and then Cas double-checked them, just to be on the safe side.  
Jo dragged the two boys towards her bed and they chat amicably. The rest of the kids continued whatever they were doing and Gabriel and Balthazar started taunting him, holding his book out of reach up on their beds again.  
Castiel continued glaring at them and cursing every time the book went over his head, but his heart wasn’t entirely in it. Because there were much better things to be staring at than being taunted by your ‘brothers’. In particular, a certain boy who was sitting a few beds over and whom Castiel could swear had been sneaking glances at him for the past ten minutes, turning his head away when he was caught.  
“Come on, Cassie.” Balthazar pouted “You’re not even trying.”  
“You’re such a whiny bitch, Balthazar.” Gabriel laughed tossing the book over to him again, and that’s when Castiel got his opportunity. In a swift move he knocked Balthazar on his ass and promptly snatched the book away from him.  
Gabriel grumbled and bitched at Balthazar, before he settle on his own bed, producing a lollipop from only God knows where.  
Balthazar picked himself up and what was left of his dignity and went to his own bed. They both knew when to quit.  
Castiel sat back on his bed, scolding at the bent pages from all the tossing. Carefully he smoothed them, and opened the book back up where he had left it.  
He started reading about fireman that set fire to houses and to people’s books instead of putting them out and about a strange little girl who made Montag doubt his line of work.  
He wonders how it would be. Not to have books around him anymore. For books to be forbidden just so everyone could be happy, because everyone was the same. It doesn’t seem right to have happiness without the right to choose for yourself. To be like everyone else, simple minded and with the exact same beliefs, following blindly a government that you couldn’t even see.  
If Castiel were to be in that universe he’s convinced he would have a stash of books somewhere, and he would be too smart about it to get himself caught. At least, he liked to think so.  
“Pssst, Cassie.” Balthazar stage whispered.  
Castiel dragged his eyes from the book and glared at him.  
“What?”  
“Dean Winchester is looking at you.” He smirked.  
Castiel startled “What?” he lifted his eyes to see Dean looking at him with a smirk playing on his lips, while he distractedly talked with his little brother and Jo.  
Dean Winchester turned his eyes back at his brother before hoping off the bed and going towards Castiel, all smooth charm and cockiness.  
He threw a distressed look at Balthazar, who snorted at him and then shook his head in amusement, and then at Gabe, who pointedly ignored him.  
And shit, Dean Winchester had stopped near his bed, an easy smile on his face and an outstretched hand for him to shake.  
“Hi, I’m Dean.”  
Castiel eyed his hand for a couple of seconds before reaching out and shaking it, retreating as soon as politely possible.  
“Castiel.” He introduced himself. Dean’s eyes went comically wide for a second before he huffed a breath of laughter.  
“Seriously?!” he asked dubiously. Castiel nodded “What kind of name is that?”  
“Angel of Thursday’s name.” He supplied, seriously.  
“Oh, that’s kinds cool.” He smirked “Anyone else here have angel’s names?”  
“Gabriel. Balthazar. Samandriel.” He said pointing at the various people as he said their names “And Anael, but we call her Anna.”  
Dean turned to look at Anna with her fiery red hair and her blue eyes “Oh, so that’s her name.”  
Anna lifts her head and looks at them. Dean winks at her, making her blush and smile back.  
“Right.” Castiel says drily. Of course Dean just wanted to know Anna’s name “Do you need me to supply you any more names?”  
Dean turns back to him seeming startled by Castiel’s tone. Castiel picks back his book and continues reading it, pointedly ignoring Dean.  
“Uh. . . okay.” Dean stands there awkwardly, hands shoved in his pockets, and rocking on the ball of his feet. Not sure if he should stay or go.  
Castiel waits for him to turn around and go to Anna, but when he peers over his book, Dean is still there.  
“Can I be of assistance?”  
Instead of saying what he wants, Dean asks “What are you reading?”  
Castiel frowns and lifts the cover of his book, turning it to Dean, so he can read it.  
“Ray Bradbury.” He whispers to himself “What’s it about?”  
Castiel’s frown deepens and he cocks his head to one side, assessing the boy in front of him.  
Dean must be around his age. Maybe a year younger. He has an easy going smile which probably he uses as an advantage to get what he wants. His hair his cut as if he was in the military, short and spiky on top of his head, a blonde that’s not quite blond nor brown. Somewhere crossing that fine line. And he has impossibly green eyes, the type of colour you see in Disney movies and fairy tales. He has freckles splattered across his nose and cheeks.  
He blinks at him “Uh, about this guy, who’s a fireman. Except fireman burn houses instead of putting out fires.”  
“That’s stupid.” Dean instantly shot back “Who deals with the fires, then?”  
“All houses are fire proof.”  
“Oh!” Dean took a few minutes to think through that before he continued “Then why do they start fires. Isn’t that a crime?”  
“Here it isn’t. It’s a dystopian city. Or it’s supposed to be. Media took over everything and books are forbidden, so no one is smarter than the others.”  
“So they burn the books and the houses. What about the people in the houses?”  
“Some are taken to mental institutions and some decide to burn with their books.” Castiel quickly supplies, surprised that Dean is actually paying attention.  
“Why don’t they wanna people to be smarter than others?” Dean stopped rocking on the balls of his feet somewhere during the conversation.  
“So they can be happy. So everyone can be happy.”  
Dean nodded, and took a step forward, sitting himself on the edge of Castiel’s bed.  
“Well, that’s stupid. And wouldn’t that, like, stop progress and stuff. If there’s no smart people then there’s no way the can create new smart things for the dumb people, right?” he asks seriously.  
Castiel frowns. “Yeah, I supposed it would.”  
Dean gives him a brilliant grin, like he just won a golden star from his favorite teacher.  
“Do you mind if I read with you?”  
“What?”  
“I’m curious.” Dean shrugged “If you update me real fast, I can start from where you’re at.”  
Castiel blinked a couple of times at him “I don’t understand how-“  
But Dean was already moving, climbing up the bed towards Castiel and settling behind him. He sat on his legs and leaned over Cas’ shoulder so he could peer at the book in Cas’ hand. Bracing his hands at either side of him.  
“Okay. So, update me real quick.” He almost whispers, breath washing over Castiel’s cheek.  
Castiel stuttered a bit, but was able to tell Dean what had happened before in the book. Dean nodded with a smirk and when Castiel was finished they started reading.  
After a couple of minutes, Castiel decided that this all predicament was quite nice actually. He didn’t mind as much as he thought he would to have someone so close to him without really knowing them.  
It was good like this. Dean wasn’t touching him, not really, until he was. After a while he sighed heavily and dropped his chin in Cas’ shoulder, and every once in a while he would press two fingers against Castiel’s wrist before he could turn the page, or so he could ask him a question.  
Near midnight, he kicked Dean out of his bed, putting his book down and saying he needed to sleep.  
Dean pouted at him for a bit, before jumping off the bed and giving Cas’ a little wave and heading towards the bed he and his brother had claimed for themselves.  
“Cassie gots himself a new boyfriend.” Gabriel snickered from the other bed  
“Shut up, Gabriel.” And with that Castiel went to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Cas pads towards the kitchen, scrubbing a hand over his eyes and yawning. It’s about nine in the morning and most of the kids are already up and already ate breakfast. Normally, Castiel would be one of the kids who gets up early, but he usually doesn’t go to bed as late as he did last night, so by now his breakfast should consist in whatever the other kids left un-eaten.  
“Good morning, sunshine.” A voice greets cheerily.  
Castiel’s head snaps up to see Dean Winchester seating at the table with a piece of pie in his plate and a glass of orange juice.  
“Good morning.” He responds warily, seating directly in front of Dean and reaching for the orange juice.  
Dean just smiles at him and gently pushes his piece of pie towards Castiel.  
“I figured that the food would suck by the time you woke up, so I saved you some pie.”  
“Oh. Thank you.” Castiel says with a small smile and a blush creeping up his neck “That was very thoughtful of you.”  
Dean shrugs and leans back in his seat, still grinning at him “Nah. It’s cool man.”  
Sam snorts beside Dean, and where did he came from anyway. Castiel must have been paying more attention to Dean than he was aware of, since he completely missed Sam sitting there, eating his. . . whatever it was he was eating.  
“Are you kidding? Last time I asked you for a piece of your pie you almost bit my hand off. He must really li-“  
Sam is interrupted by a sharp slap on the back of his head.  
“Shut up, Sam.” Dean glares threateningly at his younger brother, who glares right back and proceeds to rub the back of his head.  
Castiel looks between both brothers and then down at the pie. He shrugs and picks up the fork. He knows the dynamics between brothers. It’s all in name of teasing playfulness, it doesn’t actually mean anything. Balthazar and Gabriel had done it to him countless times in front of people he didn’t even like.  
He dismisses the commentary that implies Dean likes him and shoves a forkful of pie in his mouth, chewing appreciatively.  
“This is good.” He observes, smiling a little bit at Dean.  
Dean smiles right back, a light blush adorning his cheeks and then he nods enthusiastically.  
“Pie, man.” He says like it’s the answer to every question in the universe, and by the look on his face, maybe for Dean it is.  
Sam snorts again and finishes his orange juice, getting up as fast as he can and rushing to the back door that leads to the Roadhouse’s backyard.  
It’s just him and Dean now.  
Castiel continues eating his breakfast while Dean squirms in his seat, bothered by the awkward silence between them.  
“Good morning, boys.”  
Cas turns around to see Ellen walk in the door with grocery bags in each arm.  
“Good morning.” He answers with a little tilt of his lips., while Dean grunts his “Morning.” And continues staring at Castiel.  
“Don’t just stand there Dean. Help me get the rest inside.” She snaps.  
Dean jumps up from his chair with a ‘yes, m’am’ and then he’s rushing outside to get the rest of the groceries.  
“Can I be of assistance?” he asks, feeling slightly guilty that Dean is the only one helping.  
“No. You eat in peace and let Dean do all the heavy lifting. Serves him right for stealing all the pie.” Ellen shakes her head in mock disapproval and turns her back to him, putting her groceries away.  
Feeding a dozen kids is not an easy task, especially if at least a third of them are hormonal teenagers.  
The amount of food they go through in a week, should probably be enough to support a family of four for a month.  
Castiel presses his lips in a thin line, looking down at his breakfast guiltily, knowing that Dean is on groceries duty because of him, before he shovels it down like a good teenage boy. He drinks his orange juice in one go, and starts cleaning up the table.  
He doesn’t mind doing it. Most of his brothers would whine and throw a bitchy tantrum about it, but Cas chooses to clean up the rest of the breakfast silently under the approving eyes of the Roadhouse’s director.  
Dean carries five more bags worth of groceries before he’s done with the clean-up, and then the other boy proceeds to lean against the doorjamb and wait for Castiel to finish rinsing and putting the dishes in the washing machine.  
“Good job, Castiel.” Ellen smiles at him.  
“Hey,” Dean protests from his spot “didn’t I do a good job?” he cocks an eyebrow at Ellen and pouts slightly, green eyes shining with amusement.  
Ellen rolls her eyes at him.  
“Sure. I’d give you some pie, but you ate all of it.” Ellen throws back at him.  
Castiel winces a bit “I ate some pie too.” He counters, voice barely above a whisper.  
Ellen’s eyes go wide and she looks surprised at Dean who winces.  
“He gave you pie?” she asks slowly, as if he had just said mermaids were real.  
He shrugs at her dismissively and starts toward the back door “It’s just pie.”  
And maybe that was the wrong thing to say, because Dean’s eyes go comically wide and his mouth hangs open a little as if Castiel had just blasphemed in a church and Ellen snorts un-prettily, rolling her eyes a bit.  
“Dean here would sacrifice his first born child if he was offered a lifetime supply of pies. There’s little that boy wouldn’t do for a piece of good pie.”  
Cas turns skeptical eyes on Dean, who nods along with Ellen’s words, not trying to counter them. He frowns and shakes his head at him.  
“You are a very peculiar person, Dean Winchester.” He tells him before exiting the kitchen.  
It’s sunny outside for a change. Castiel smiles a little as he steps over the threshold of the door and into the sun, which feels wonderful on his pale skin.  
Ellen’s backyard is big and the squeals of overly excited teenagers and kids rings loudly through the quiet neighborhood. There’s green grass covering every inch of the floor, from the doorsteps of the porch to the tall fence that circles it, keeping things out. A swing set supporting a smiling Jo, who stands on it instead of sitting and a giggling Anna, swaying according to the girls’ whims, spinning crazily when they twist it around.  
There’s a big tree too. Castiel always like it. The bark isn’t too rough on your fingers, and it’s fairly easy to climb, which Castiel usually does, getting all the way to the top, where the branches are a little weaker, but still won’t give away under his weight. From there he can see the other houses, the people on the street and the stray dogs sniffing around trash cans. Sometimes it feels like he’s suspended in midair, almost like he’s flying when he’s up that high.  
He turns around and beams at Dean, which should be odd, because he’s not the beaming type at all, but Dean is a warm presence near him with his green eyes and freckles. Plus he gave Cas the last piece of pie, so why the heck not.  
“I wanna show you something.” He says, before grabbing a fistful of Dean’s sleeve and running towards the old tree.  
It must have been here for centuries to be this thick and tall. That’s another thing that Cas loves about it. This tree was here when they built these houses and it was here when everything was okay with the city and it’ll probably still be here when everything goes back to being okay.  
“Can you climb?” he asks hopefully.  
Dean is beaming at him, laughing at Cas’ excitement. He nods affirmatively.  
“Okay, just follow my lead.” He instructs, getting a good old on the trunk of the three, gripping the knots and finding the perfect foot holds for the climb, he proceeds carefully until he reaches the lowest branch, taking a careful hold of it and hauling himself up.  
He perches himself on it and uses it as a foot hold to climb to the next strong branch. He balances himself on it and looks down to see how Dean is doing.  
Dean is holding his own, hands and feet in firm holds in the trunk of the tree and he’s making his way up with the precise moves of someone who’s used to physical exertion.  
“You okay?” Castiel asks anyway.  
“Yup.” Dean huffs in a breath. He looks up at Cas and his face is a little red. Maybe he’s not doing as well as he seems.  
Castiel quirks his mouth in a smile “Maybe it’s a good thing you gave me that last piece of pie.”  
Dean’s head immediately snaps up at that “Are you calling me fat?” he asks in a huff of laughter.  
He only shrugs as a response, carefully getting up on his tree branch and climbing higher “Try to keep up.” He throws over his shoulder with a smirk, catching Dean grumbling at him, but not quite the exact words.  
When he reaches the highest branch that won’t break under his weight he stops and waits for Dean to catch up. When he finally does, his face has reddened from exertion and he’s panting a little bit.  
“Dude, this is high.” He complains peering at the ground bellow them “How high are we exactly?”  
“’Bout five meters, I think.” He informs “High enough to see over the metal fence.”  
Dean’s eyes widen suddenly in comprehension and he peers over the tree branches and into the street.  
“Oh!” he breaths, watching the houses around them, some with their paint faded and already peeling, others painted a white that could hurt your eyes if you looked too long. The trimmed lawns and the sloppy lawns, and the people walking their dogs and one guy in a red helmet riding a bike, with a suspicious looking package in the little basket near the handle. No one will ask about it though, and no one will seriously care about its contents except the people directly involved.  
If he looks farther away, in the horizon, he’ll see more houses and at the far right some kind of fabric producing alone enough gas to blow a hole on the ozone. There’s a kids park, where the little ones are allowed to go once a week with the supervision of Ellen and Bobby. There are a few kids playing there right now, with their parents paying close attention to them.  
“Is that the ocean?” Dean asks slightly awed at the sight of the thin blue strip that you can see if you look over Ellen’s roof.  
Castiel twist around to see and smiles at it.  
“Yeah.” He says quietly.  
Dean nods slowly and swallows hard “I went to the beach, once. I think.” He starts, voice as quiet as Castiel’s had been “I was little. Dad and Mom took me. Sam was just a baby. Mom had to hold him all the time because he didn’t like the sand in his toes, so he stayed on the towel. I remember dad taking me to the ocean and it was freezing. But I loved it. Spent over two hours and froze my skinny ass until mom called me back and gave some pie.” He presses his lips together and looks away from the horizon “Dad and Mom were so happy. I remember she laughed a lot that day, and dad kissed her. Sammy was happy too, even though he didn’t like the sand.”  
Castiel feels the need to do something, say something that could chase the sadness away from Dean’s eyes, but he doesn’t know what to say.  
“Mom died the following week. Those bastards burned down our house. Dad got me and Sam out. I had to carry him, really. The fireman had to drag Dad out while he was still trying to save Mom. She-“ his voice catches and he clears his throat “she didn’t make it.”  
Castiel feels like crying, and he feels like shouting at the world and he feels like punching something. He settles by reaching for Dean’s shoulder and squeezing it tightly, making sure he won’t unbalance him.  
“I’m sorry.” He whispers. And he is. He really freaking is.  
Dean sniffles a little bit and gives him a tremulous smile.  
“I didn’t mean to make you sad.” He tells him truthfully.  
“Nah, dude. Not your fault I got all emotional over water.” He says laughing a bit although it seems forced.  
Castiel nods and smiles a little too.  
They fall into silence, and Castiel drops his hand, gripping the branch he’s sitting on. He feels a little unbalanced with what Dean told him. Dean shared something personal with him and Cas didn’t give anything back. Someway it doesn’t seem fair.  
“I don’t know who my mother is.” He offers, trying to put them on equal footing and finding, as he says the words, that he does want to share this with Dean.  
Dean looks at him with such a vulnerable expression that it breaks his heart just a little bit.  
“Cas, man, you don’t have to-“ he starts, but Castiel cuts him off.  
“No I want to. Seems only fair, right?” he gives him a reassuring smile and Dean nods.  
Castiel takes a deep breath and continues “I can’t remember my father anymore. He took care of me until I was five and then one night he disappeared. I woke up and he just wasn’t there. I don’t know what made him quit me, but he did. Next thing I know I’m on the street begging and trying to run from them.” Dean doesn’t need Cas to tell him who ‘them’ are. They both know. Everyone knows. “Gabriel and Balthazar found me and brought me back here. They took good care of me. They became my brothers.” He smiles fondly at the two boys. He tells his story shortly and in a concise way. He doesn’t feel the words anymore. These are facts to him, not an emotion heavy story. Of course it sucks ass that he can’t even remember his dad and that he never knew his mom, but he’s happy here, and he guesses that he’s much better off without them.  
“I’m sorry.” Dean says, parroting the words he said just minutes ago, but fully feeling them “Life sucks sometimes.” He tells him matter-of-factly, leaning against the trunk of the tree and sighing.  
And Castiel has to fully agree with that.  
Life sucks.  
He leans back against the trunk, mimicking Dean’s movements and heaving a sigh of his own.  
“But you know what makes it better?” Dean asks suddenly.  
“Pie?” Castiel guesses for him, eliciting a laugh from Dean. He smiles broadly at the sound. Making Dean laugh after such a heavy conversation is like spotting a unicorn in the end of a rainbow, and if Gabriel could hear him right now he’s shit sure he would never live this comparison down.  
“That too. But friends are pretty awesome. Right, Cas?”  
He smiles and turns to look at Dean who’s looking at him hopefully “Yeah, friends make it alright.”  
Dean laughs “Dude, I think we just had a Disney friends-forever bullshit moment.”  
Castiel snorts at Dean, who just beams back at him, the light catching his eyes through the branches.  
“Dean?” He says softly.  
Dean hums at him, eyes closed and head resting against the trunk of the tree.  
“Has anyone ever told you that you have eyes like a Disney princess?” he asks smirking at him.  
His eyes snap open and Dean glares at him “I swear to God if you don’t shut up I will throw you off this tree.” He threatens, which only makes Castiel laugh more.  
Dean makes an indignant sound in the back of his throat and huffs.  
“Fine. See if I give you any pie next time.”


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel had never been in love. Not once in his short life had he ever looked at someone and thought ‘Hey, I would really like to kiss that mouth everyday as long as I can.’ It was a bit unnerving for his brothers, because they couldn’t get any useful blackmail material.  
He always considered that he was one of those people who just didn’t get to fall in love. Castiel had never been so glad to be wrong before.  
Normally Castiel doesn’t like to be wrong. He has the answers to almost everything that people can throw his way. But, apparently, he doesn’t mind being wrong about this one thing. He doesn’t mind being wrong about Dean.  
Somewhere along the two weeks Dean has been here, Castiel fell in love with him. And he isn’t ashamed to say that it’s a kind of ridiculous puppy dog love. He hangs on every word Dean says, and he marvels in every smile and laugh that Dean gives him. He has taken to keep close to him and engage on staring matches that are, accordingly to Balthazar, disgusting.  
He isn’t quite sure how it happened but he figured it had been sort of slow thing. It had been the little things, really. How Dean had taken to seat beside him in bed and talk to him, telling him all the stories of his travels with his dad. It was the hand gestures when he was telling these stories and the light in his eyes when he told him about something awesome that he had done. It was his fierce protectiveness of Sam and the way he ruffled his little brother’s hair, making Sam huff in annoyance. It was the way he always saved a seat for Castiel at every meal they ate and how he stole fries from his plate.  
In the book he and Dean had been reading there was a quote. Well technically it was a quote within a quote seeing that the book quoted another book that probably didn’t even exist.  
It said: “ ‘We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there is at least one which makes the heart run over.’”  
Castiel thought, as he read it with Dean peering over his shoulder, that with love it should be the same. Rather opposite than that love at first sight nonsense, love was patient. It was giving a little bit of yourself and being accepted, until the other person returned the favor in kindness.  
“Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Brooding McBroodypants.”  
Castiel was sitting in the swing set, letting it sway gently as he thought all of these, so he had been much too distracted to hear Dean approaching him from behind. The other boy grabbed the chains of the swing and made it come to a stop. Castiel had to tip his head back to look up at Dean.  
“I am not brooding, Dean. I was merely thinking about the book we are reading.”  
Dean smiled at him upside-down.  
After that one first night their progression had considerably slowed down, since Dean was rather distracting and kept interrupting to ask questions about it, which led to them discussing something and just plainly chatting for the next two hours losing their reading time.  
“What are we going to read next?” he asks “We should be about finishing this one, right?”  
Castiel nods awkwardly. This position isn’t doing much for his neck.  
“I think you’ll like Vonnegut. Slaughterhouse-Five is very good.” He tells him seriously.  
Dean smiles at him and steps away, going for the swing beside his. He sits down and gives himself a hard push to get the swing moving.  
Castiel sighs and tips his head to the side. There’s something. . . off in the way Dean is behaving. He’s carrying himself stiffly and his lips are pressed together as if there’s something he wants to say but not he’s not sure how to say it.  
Castiel frowns. He was okay just five minutes ago, before Ellen had called him in the house, saying that there was someone on the pho- oh!  
“Your father called.” He says, voice barely above a whisper.  
“He did.”  
Castiel clenches his teeth and hops of the swing. Because Dean is looking straight ahead, kicking his legs backwards and forward to keep the swing moving.  
This is not okay. Dean is leaving and he won’t even look him in the face to say so.  
He grabs the chain of Dean’s swing, making it turn out of its axis and lean dangerously to one side. Dean yelps and clenches his fists around the chains, thrusting his heels into the ground and putting the swing to a stop.  
Castiel grabs the other chain and leans over Dean, getting into his personal space.  
Dean’s still not looking at him and god damn it, now it’s just pissing Castiel off, making something ugly and painful twist in his chest.  
“Dean.” He barks.  
The other boy’s head snaps up, startled eyes rising to meet him. Dean never heard Castiel scream. That combined with the barked order, catches Dean’s attention and forces him to look up. It’s a mix of surprise and the fact that he’s programed to respond to orders.  
“When are you leaving?” he asks, making his voice come out softer than before.  
“Tomorrow.”  
Cas is going to be sick. He feels like throwing up and his knees are feeling too weak to support him.  
“Cas.” And the worst part is how apologetic Dean sounds with just that one word, how sorrowful “You knew I wasn’t going to stay here for long. I told you, it would be two weeks tops.”  
“Yeah.” Cas croaks, letting his head fall into Dean’s shoulder.  
He hears Dean sigh, his breath washing over his ear, and then a warm hand his pressing against the back of his neck.  
“It’s okay.” Dean starts “After all, we still have phones, right? And I’ll be coming back as soon as dad passes by again. Even if it’s just to say hi.”  
Cas nods and takes a couple of steading breaths. He takes his head off Dean’s shoulder and lean’s back again.  
Dean offers him a smile. One of his favorite ones, that’s not quite a smirk nor a full blown grin, but somewhere in between.  
“You okay, Cas?”  
Castiel snorts a laugh. Of course he’s not okay.  
“Yeah.” He responds instead, and laughs again, a bitter thing that squeezes itself out of his throat without his say-so “Just don’t forget about me.”  
And suddenly Dean’s the one in his personal space. He practically jumps up from his swing, making it kick back and smack against the back of his legs. He looks at Cas affronted, like he just insulted him. He looks outright hurt. And before Cas can even think of something to say, before he can even open his mouth, Dean is kissing him.  
And it’s nothing like Cas imagined it would be, but it’s everything he could wish for.  
Dean presses his lips against Cas’ harshly and chastely. A little desperately and trying to prove his point. But at the same time it’s sweet. It’s careful and over entirely too soon.  
“Don’t you dare ever think that, Cas.” He growls “You’re part of my family now, whether you like it or not, and I will always come back to you. Even if they take you, no matter which one of them, I’ll come back. You hear me?”  
Castiel smiles- no. Castiel freackin’ beams at Dean and places both hands on each side of his face, kissing him right back.  
When he pulls back, Dean is smiling back at him.  
“I hear you.” He says softly, still smiling like an idiot at this boy who just came into his life and cared about him, showed interest and now it’s about to leave again. And somehow that’s okay, because he knows that Dean’ll come back. He’s stubborn enough to do it.  
“Good.” Dean smiles at him.  
«»  
The rest of the day is good. It’s so good that Castiel feels like bursting and start laughing hysterically, because nothing is ever this good in his life. There’s always a catch. But somehow there isn’t. Nothing goes wrong for the rest of the day. It’s actually two steps away from damn perfect.  
Dean holds his hand and kisses him whenever he feels like it, because he can. Castiel makes Dean laugh a grand total of six times throughout the day and Sam even joins him for some light teasing and a honest smile, telling Cas, when Dean wasn’t listening, how happy he is and how good Cas is for Dean.  
Castiel loves every single moment of this and marvels in it.  
When the day is almost over and Ellen sends them to bed, Den and Cas sit together in Cas’ bed and read the book, trying to finish it in that last night they have together.  
And of course, of course, that’s when all goes to hell.  
One moment, everyone is having a good time, managing their time just right so they can enjoy the most of it before Ellen shouts through the door for them to get their lazy asses in bed, and next thing you know three consecutive loud noises have the kids quieting down to the point of panic.  
That’s all it takes. Three shots fired just outside their door. A beat of silence. And the fourth shot comes next, ringing clearly through the house.  
Castiel turns wide eyes at Dean, a pure sense of panic washing over him and freezing him in place.  
“Shit!” it’s the one single word Dean mutters before he’s on his feet, rushing to the trapdoor in the floor and slamming it open.  
Gabriel, who had frozen when the first shots rung, seems to get free from whatever stupor he was under and starts ordering the kids to go down. Little ones first and then the rest, come on, move, move, move.  
And Castiel is still in shock, in the same place in bed he was three minutes ago, and by now time is crucial, he needs to get up, he needs to go through that trapdoor and into safety. Except he can’t.  
He’s on full panic mode. He can’t move and oh god, oh god, oh god-  
A sharp pain to the side of his face makes him stop, head whipping to one side with the force of it.  
“Snap out of it!” Dean hisses pulling him from the bed, and just like that Cas can move again. He gets his feet under him and pushes Dean in front of him.  
Dean resists for a second until Castiel hisses back at him an “I’m good, now move your damned ass.” And then Dean moves ahead and starts helping the rest of the kids through the trap door and into the basement and adjacent tunnels system.  
He moves across the room and is about to go down to the basement when he spots Samandriel. Little Samandriel hiding away under his bed. Eyes wide open and shaking with fear, and shit if he can live the kid alone. He’s practically his brother.  
Castiel throws his book over the trap door, hearing it fall down the steps and land with a thump somewhere, before he’s rushing across the room and squatting down.  
“Sam, we have to go.” He hisses at the younger boy, who shakes his head at him and crawls further down, hiding better from view.  
“I’m serious; the bad guys are going to get you if you don’t get your ass moving.” He reaches down and grabs a fistful of Sam’s shirt tugging on it, so the kid would crawl out of there already “Samandriel-“  
He’s interrupted by someone charging against the door of the bedroom.  
Shit! God help him.  
He sends a silent prayer to God and hopes he’s listening.  
“Come on.”  
“Cas!” he can hear Dean hissing from somewhere behind him.  
He looks over his shoulder just as they charge against the door again. Dean is already halfway down the stairs, only his head peeking out from the opening on the floor.  
“Sam’s in here.” He hisses back “Stay there,” he says before Dean can climb back up the stairs and come to them “I’ll be just a minute.”  
“We don’t have a fucking minute.”  
“Then stops making me loose time and shut up.”  
This is not the time for arguing, because Dean’s right. He’s so fucking right. They have zero time for this shit.  
They charge against the door again.  
“Samandriel. This is your last warning, before I crawl there and haul your ass over. I don’t care how, but I will drag you out of there.”  
The younger boy is still shaking, eyes laser-focused on the door and ignoring everything Castiel is saying.  
“Castiel!” and this time he knows it’s Gabe who’s calling “I have to close this shit.”  
He looks over his shoulder again to see Gabriel coming up the stairs.  
“Stay the fuck there.” He hisses “I’m coming.”  
Gabriel stops, just as someone shoots the locks and kicks open the door.  
He hears the trapdoor closing and locking at the same time he rolls over and under the bed, next to Sam who started crying.  
He clamps a hand over the kid’s mouth and shushes him as quietly as possible.  
Two sets of shiny black shoes make their way into the room.  
“Trapdoor.” He hears a quiet male voice say.  
The other man snorts, and replies in a higher voice than the first one “These people are taking precautions. How adorable.”  
They move toward the door on the floor and one of the men leans down and gives it a hard pull.  
Nothing happens. That door was made to stay down once locked. And by now Gabriel should already be leading all of the kids through the tunnels and into a safe place. The other orphanage is a couple of blocks over. A twenty minute walk outside in the street and about half an hour if you take the tunnels.  
The man, the one with white hair and a bald spot on his hair, gives the trapdoor another pull, but it doesn’t budge.  
Samandriel scoots closer to Cas, hot tears streaming down his face and pooling in Cas’ hand, which is still covering his mouth. Any noise they make could be the death of them.  
“Zachariah.” The other man says “We don’t have much time. You know that the boss doesn’t like for us to stay long in these dumps.”  
Zachariah gets up from the floor and points his gun at the floor, shooting at the trapdoor. Nothing happens and Castiel sends a silent prayer to whomever send them Bobby Singer and his conspiraton theories, because that trapdoor is almost five inches of steel behind the wood.  
“Looks like we won’t be getting nothing from here. No little mud monkeys to bring back home.” The other man quips, voice staying calmly emotionless.  
Castiel is trying to breath as quietly as possible and right then, when the two men claim that they are about to quit he has to fight the urge to sigh in relief.  
Zachariah grumbles something as they head for the door. Castiel lets his hold on Sam’s mouth loosen, because they’re already out of danger and holy shit they might actually make it when Sam whimpers.  
The kid fucking whimpers, and Castiel’s hand slaps against his mouth again, a little more forcefully than he predicted just as the two pairs of footsteps stop by the threshold and twist back.  
“Did you hear that?” Zachariah asks.  
The other man sighs “Looks like we’ll have something to bring home after all.” He says sounded disgusted “I hate kid duty.”  
The men start toppling beds over and Cas takes a sharp intake of breath, fear making his heart beat fast and shit he’s going to throw up everything he’s ever eaten in his life. He can’t hear the beds crashing against the floor due to the thumping of his heart in his ears. Too loud and drowning everything else out.  
Samandriel is crying frantically now, breathing fast and mouth open panting against Castiel’s hand.  
One of the men topples the bed directly next to theirs and Cas flinches.  
“Close your eyes.” He instructs Sam, mouth against the younger boys’ ear and voice barely a whisper.  
Samandriel closes his eyes and scoots closer to Castiel. The mattress above them squeaks when someone presses it down and then the entire bed frame is toppling over.  
Castiel hardens his face and looks up at the barrel of a gun.  
The man’s face twists into a disgusted smile and he calls for Zachariah who turns to them pleased and takes a needle with a transparent liquid from his coat pocket.  
“Lookie what we got here.” He laughs “The boss always liked pretty blue eyed boys.” He says happily.  
And without further warning, before Castiel as time to do anything else there’s sharp pain in his neck and the distinct feeling of fluid entering his body and then the world around his goes pitch black.


	4. Chapter 4

When he comes to again, he’s lying on the floor somewhere. His face is pressed against the cold tiles uncomfortably, limbs bending at awkward angles as if someone had carelessly dumped him on the floor and let him stay like he had landed.  
Castiel slowly blinks his eyes open and groans at the soreness in his neck. He gets his hands under himself and tries to lift himself up, elbows buckling under him and he falls face first on the floor again.  
He hisses when the tiles hit his cheekbone and he can almost feel the bruise forming.  
He blinks and decides to stay down for a little while. His limbs feel uncoordinated and his mind his foggy and sluggish.  
There’s something he should be remembering. Something important about what happened that has to do why he is currently lying on the floor and not in his comfy bad in the Roadhouse. Castiel scrunches his eyes closed and tries to concentrate as best as he can.  
The last thing he remembers is kissing Dean and watching as he laughed at Cas when his eyes stayed closed a fraction of second too long, after Dean had pulled back.  
And then. . . something. Something had happened. Something with Samandriel and awful loud noises.  
He tries to get up again, coaching his brain into making his limbs move accordingly. This time he manages to sit up, and have a proper look around the room.  
It’s dark and his eyes take a minute to adjust.  
It’s a fairly large open space, by what he can see. Only one high window at the farther wall, which his letting moonlight stream in at an awkward angle.  
Castiel carefully gets up and wobbles slightly on his feet. He opens his palms at each side of his body, facing down, and he lets his body find its center again and adjust to the gravity pulling him down towards the center of the earth.  
When he thinks he’s okay again, he takes a step forward, towards the window. There’s something bothering him. His ankle. There’s something heavy on his ankle.  
Cas takes another step forward and his immediately held back by something clutching his ankle tightly.  
He gasps and reaches down to touch cold metal circling his ankle, a heavy lock binding it together and a string of intertwined iron links bounding him to something. The wall probably.  
Cas’ breath quickens and he traces his fingers along the chain connected to the shackle. He follows it carefully, letting the cold metal pass through his hand until he reaches a wall.  
And just like that images of what happened rush through his mind and he can’t breathe. Jesus fuck! He can’t- he can’t-  
He starts hyperventilating. He slumps against the wall and lets himself slide down, entire body shaking and starting to sweat profusely. The part of Castiel brains that still functions, makes him put his shaking hands on his knees and head between his legs, forcing himself to steady his breath.  
He needs to stop, adjust and prioritize.  
Samandriel must be here somewhere. Cas takes a deep breath and slowly gets up again, hand splayed against the wall, so he has something to ground him and to catch him if he happens to have another freak out.  
“Samandriel.” He whispers carefully.  
No answer. Nothing.  
Castiel clears his throat.  
“Samandriel.” He tries again a little bit louder.  
A whimper, somewhere to his left. Castiel’s head snaps towards the source of the sound.  
“Sam.” He says again “I’m coming for you.” Castiel lets the wall guide him as he moves carefully. Feet barely leaving the floor as he walks towards his friend, his brother.  
“Talk to me Sam.” He demands, trying to guide himself by the sound of the kid’s voice.  
“Cas.” It’s barely a whisper but it’s there. Close.  
“I’m right here. Don’t worry.” He tries to reassure him as best as he can.  
His foot touches something soft and Samandriel whimpers slightly, chubby hands wrapping around Castiel’s legs as soon as he’s within reach.  
Castiel sighs relieved and blinks a couple of times, willing his eyes to see the kid. All he can see is Samandriel’s silhouette.  
“Let go of my legs, so I can sit down.” Castiel commands calmly, prying Sam’s hand off his legs and carefully sitting down.  
The chain that bounds him to the wall is almost stretched fully, giving Castiel little comfortable positions in which he can sit.  
Samandriel is on him the instant his butt touches the ground.  
Little hands wrapping around his neck and fat tears rolling down his cheeks, as he hides his face in Castiel’s neck and cries.  
Castiel pats his back and shushes him, saying that it will be okay. And even to his own ears it sounds like a lie.  
They stay like that for a while. Samandriel clinging to him and Cas propped against the wall trying to keep his shit together.  
“I’m sorry. My fault, my fault. It’s my fault.” Samandriel starts babbling.  
‘Yes, yes it is’ Castiel thinks although he doesn’t say it.  
“Not anyone’s fault.” He forces himself to say, because it’s the right thing and he can’t blame a six-year-old for panicking.  
“But, Cas-“  
“Shut up. I told you already. Not anyone’s fault.” He snaps.  
Samandriel nods his head and gulps down, climbing out of Castiel’s lap and settling beside him against the wall.  
They don’t talk. Hours pass by, and Castiel remains in the same position. Samandriel falls asleep against his shoulder and Castiel remains awake, staring out of the far away window. Too small and too high to be possible for someone to climb through.  
He watches as the moonlight changes in angle and the day stars anew, sunshine crawling through the window, and slowly rising in the horizon just out of Castiel’s sight. No one comes for them.  
Castiel looks around the room carefully, now that the sun is high enough to let light shine upon the room. It’s fairly large with tiled walls and tiled floor. ‘Easier to clean off the blood’ something in the dark corner of his mind that he doesn’t like to visit supplies helpfully.  
He tells it to shut up and takes in the rest of the room. The wall they are sitting against is lined with hooks, only two of them put to use with iron chains that link them to the shackles around Castiel’s and Samandriel’s ankles.  
There’s a link of handcuffs hanging from the roof in one side and table about five meters away from it. Castiel squints at it, and his eyes go wide when he realizes that the stains splattering it are blood.  
He inhales sharply and Samandriel stirs beside him.  
“Cas-“ he mumbles.  
“Right here.” He assures the younger boy.  
“I’m hungry.” Samandriel complains uselessly.  
“I know.” He’s hungry too, but there’s not much he can do about it, is there?!  
Samandriel quiets for a minute, while Cas studies the stairway on the right wall. And he briefly wonders which one of the families got them. Heaven or Hell?  
A little voice that sounds suspiciously like Dean snorts about a stairway to Heaven and Cas smiles.  
“What do you think will happen to us?” Sam asks quietly.  
That depends on who got them. If they’re in Heaven then they’ll probably be brainwashed and turned into good little soldiers. If they’re in the Hell part then they can end up in slavery, sex rings, money laundry or soldiers.  
Instead of telling this to little Samandriel he says “I don’t know.”  
He’s heard little snippets of conversation between Bobby and Ellen to know that Heaven is falling. They’re much more interested in overthrowing Hell than in being actual mafia. Sure they have their shady business, dirty cops under payroll, but it’s in no way as big as it used to be. A reign of clouds trying to protect their heritage, even though the king had long ago left the building and the two princes were at a loss of what to do.  
“I need to pee.”  
Cas makes a face. This isn’t going to be pleasant.  
“Try not to want.”  
Sam clenches his fists and wiggles a little on his spot.  
Castiel is so tired. His nerves are on edge from the waiting. He doesn’t know what’ll happen next and it’s driving him mad.  
“I really, really got to pee.” Sam wriggles some more and Castiel sighs.  
“Just-“ he looks around and there’s a railing in the middle of the room that probably leads to the swears.  
‘They use it to flush out the blood’ Castiel shakes his head and tells that part of him to shut the fuck up.  
“Just see if you can reach there and aim.”  
Samandriel gets up and shuffles forwards, getting as far as the chain will let him. He stands a meter or so from the drain and it’s too far and the aftermath of this is going to be gross and stink like hell.  
Samandriel throws a look over his shoulder and makes a face.  
“Try not to dirty your clothes.” Cas advises.  
He turns his head away when he hears Samandriel’s zipper open and starts humming the lyrics to some song. He sings ‘Sweet Child of Mine’ and remembers Dean humming it once or twice distractedly. Dean hummed a lot, songs Cas knew and songs Cas had never heard about. Gabriel likes to sing at the top of his lungs to get a rise out of Cas. Balthazar sung sometimes, some frensh thing twisting the words in his tongue with an impeccable accent and giving the finger to anyone who complained.  
Castiel stops humming.  
His eyes sting, and he can’t cry in front of Samandriel because if he loses his shit, Sam will lose his shit and if Sam loses his shit again it’ll be fucking hard to put his shit back together.  
So Castiel doesn’t cry. He tips his head back and blinks the tears away.  
Samandriel turns back to him with his nose wrinkled and he sits next to Cas again, leaving a little more space between the two of them.  
They stay quiet for what feels like hours. The sun starts crawling down of the sky and still no one comes for them.  
Samandriel falls asleep again, because there isn’t much to do anyway. Castiel remains awake, watching the light shift through the window and day give place to night.  
No one comes for them. Castiel is hungry. He’s starving and he hasn’t eaten in a little over twenty four hours. Rationally Castiel knows that the human body can withstand several days before dying of starvation, but of thirst you can die in just three.  
Castiel read once a book about how they broke someone and stripped him down of everything he ever was, re-making him to their image. He remembers that one of the things they used to break him was starvation and physical abuse and sleep deprivation, all of which are also used to break marines in war zones.  
If they use any of these methods in here, then Castiel is certainly not looking forward for what comes next.  
Samandriel wakes up next to him and complains about his hunger and thirst before he goes back to sleep.  
Castiel keeps quiet and waits for them to come, like he knows they will.  
He’s leaning over the wall, he has barely moved all day, saving his energy for when it really counts, and he’s exhausted. His body is used to have at least nine hours of sleep, and he’s still awake.  
Castiel scoots down and lays on the cold floor, shivering slightly. He uses his arms as a pillow and closes his eyes. Not sleeping, he just needs a couple minutes to rest. Just that. A couple minutes. He can’t sleep. He tells that to himself a couple of times, willing the sleep away.  
Castiel falls asleep anyway. And of course that’s when he’s asleep that they come.  
He’s startled awake by the loud noise of a door being thrown open and little hands digging into his bicep. He quickly sits up and looks toward the staircase.  
There’s heavy footsteps coming down and Cas puts himself between the people coming and the boy.  
The first thing he sees coming down from that staircase is a shiny pair of expensive black shoes, followed by a pair of clicking heels and another set of shiny black shoes.  
He immediately recognizes Zachariah, the first one to come down, with bugged eyes and a shark-like smile that sends a shiver down Castiel’s spine. A woman follows him, in the same grey suit with a white dress shirt underneath and hair tightly pulled into a bun. Not a hair falling to her forehead or out of place. Behind her comes a larger guy, with a look of utter disgust in his face as he looks around and wrinkles his nose. If Castiel had to guess he would say that that was Uriel.  
The woman steps forward with both guys flanking her.  
Castiel immediately knows that she’s the one running the show around here.  
“Hello, Castiel. Samandriel. My name is Naomi.” She says, not smiling but steal sounding nice. Friendly even.  
The woman looks down at them, keeping her distance. Caged animals are dangerous. Bobby had thought him that, and right now, he guesses the two of them are the animals and Naomi is threading cautiously, still not sure if either of them was going to jump at her throat.  
Cas might. He is very inclined to do so.  
Samandriel peeks over Castiel’s shoulder carefully “How do you know our names?” he whispers.  
“I know everything about you.” She states matter-of-factly “I know your mother and your father were murdered, Samandriel.” The boy inhales sharply and hides behind Castiel “And I know that your father left you, Castiel.” Castiel stares at her blankly “And I know you never met your mother. We could find her for you.” Naomi offers kindly.  
Castiel keeps staring with a blank expression, not reacting to any of her words  
Naomi leans over and squints at him.  
“You don’t talk much do you?”  
Castiel keeps quiet and stares at her defiantly.  
She smiles at him sweetly.  
“I am going to have so much fun breaking you.”  
Naomi looks back over her shoulder, and that’s apparently all it takes for Uriel and Zachariah to yank him forward, Zachariah twisting his arm behind his back painfully, so he doesn’t get any leverage at all to escape.  
“Cas!” Samandriel gasps from his place, starting to cry.  
He keeps quiet, throwing a reassuring look at Sam even though Zachariah is twisting his arm in a very uncomfortable angle, and he’s sure he’s going to dislocate his shoulder.  
Uriel produces a key from his jacket and unlocks Castiel’s shackles.  
Castiel tries to leverage himself out of Zachariah’s vice hold, without much result.  
Zachariah twist his arm further and Cas gasps  
“Easy there, boy. Wouldn’t want to rip off your arm. You’re going to need it.” He drawls in Castiel’s ear.  
Cas shudders and turns his face away in disgust.  
Naomi takes a firm hold of his chin and twists his head, examining him. She tips his head back and squints.  
“Uh.” She whispers “Interesting.”  
She straightens up and lets go of Castiel and he just knows he’s going to have bruises in his jaw tomorrow. He bruises so easily.  
Naomi turns around and starts towards the door, throwing a disinterested “Careful with him. That one’s special.”


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel is led into what appears to be an office or maybe an interrogation room. There’s a desk near the middle of it with an office chair behind and one of those uncomfortable waiting room chairs in front of it, a big mirror in the wall to his right.  
Zachariah forces him down on the chair while Uriel takes out his gun in front of him and cocks it, showing him just exactly what’ll be waiting for him if he ever tries to escape.  
The men settle in each side of him, guns at the ready and hands clasped in front of them.  
Naomi calmly sits and smiles at him.  
“Are you thirsty Castiel?” she asks kindly, pushing a glass of water towards him.  
Castiel hesitates, before he nods his head. He’s so fucking thirsty right now and the water is just within his reach.  
“You can drink the water, Castiel. We aren’t monsters. In fact we only have in mind your best interests.” She assures him, pushing the glass a little further towards him.  
Cas reaches for it and takes it in his slightly shaking hands. He looks up at Naomi once before he drinks it like a parched man, tips his head back so he gets all of it. His throat feels raw and dry, the smooth water in comparison is bliss.  
He carefully places the glass back on the table, eyes focused on Naomi. She smiles flatly at him and nods once.  
“Good boy, Castiel.” She praises him “Are you hungry as well?” she asks sympathetically.  
Castiel nods slowly, because this wasn’t certainly what he was expecting. He was fully prepared for torture and for pain. He was certainly not prepared to be offered water and cookies.  
Naomi smiles kindly at him and takes a jar of cookies from one of the desk drawers. She pushes it over towards him and Cas eyes it carefully.  
“You may have a cookie, Castiel.” Cas leans forward, hand already reaching for the jar and he’s just so damn hungry that cookies sound like heaven right now “If you tell us where the other kids went.”  
Castiel freezes, hand already inside of the jar, fingertips brushing the crumbling edges of a chocolate chip cookie.  
He takes his hand off of the jar and leans back against his chair.  
So, that was it. Naomi wants to know where the tunnels lead to get her hands on the others.  
Castiel doesn’t tell her. He shuts up and focuses his gaze back on her, ignoring the treat on the table and his rumbling stomach.  
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me Castiel? It could be that simple. You tell me where they are and then you get a cookie. We can be good for you, Castiel. We can make your integration in here go as smoothly as possible and you’ll only have to tell me where they went and their names. I can assure you that the alternative is quite unpleasant.” She says calmly, sharp blue eyes trained on him.  
Castiel clenches his jaw and shakes his head once.  
Naomi’s smile tightens in some sort of apprehension. She places both hands on the table and uses them as leverage to get up. Slowly, she makes her way around the office desk and props herself against it, leaning over to Cas.  
“Last chance Castiel.” She warns.  
Cas remains silent with stubborn determination.  
Naomi’s mouth curls into something vicious and before Cas has time to process it, she’s raising her hand and slapping him across the face hard enough to make his neck snap to one side and for him to gasp in pain.  
His left cheeks is stinging like a bitch and Castiel pants heavily, willing the tears away and slowly turning back to face Naomi who promptly slaps him again. Her hand connecting with his cheek for a second time and nails catching the soft skin of his cheek, scratching him.  
Castiel gasps again and breathes heavily, trying to calm down and not cry. For fuck’s sake he is fifteen years old and he will not give in just because he was slapped across the face.  
He straightens up again, expecting for Naomi to be right in front of him and he’s thrown off when his eyes meet Zachariah’s cold blue ones.  
The man’s lips twist into something vicious and he balls his fist and all Castiel has time to think is holy fucking shit, he’s going to punch me before he’s ducking out of the chair, avoiding Zachariah’s fist expertly and dodging the man. He jumps over the table and puts some distance between himself and his assailant.  
Castiel could not be an expert in fighting, he sure wasn’t as good as Dean, but living in an orphanage full of testosterone and crazy teenage hormones did teach him some things.  
First of all he was fast, ten years avoiding some of the older boys’ (and sometimes Jo’s) punches when he managed to piss them off for whatever reason taught him that.  
So when Zachariah snarled at him and circled around the desk to get to him, he moved fast and maintained the distance. The older man might have strength on his side but Castiel was a strategist and he thought every move through analyzing the best way out and trying to remember the way back to the basement so he could get Samandriel. Not that he had an escape plan formed or anything, but years of helping Gabriel play most of his elaborated pranks taught him that coming up with stuff as he went wasn’t too of a bad idea.  
Castiel assessed his situation. Uriel was flanking the door; Naomi was cross armed and casually leaning against the wall, not interfering with the situation. Zachariah was looking pissed, trying to get to Castiel and land a good punch.  
There’s no escape route, except-  
Except the wall opposite to the desk, the one where they had come in, it’s totally made of glass and Cas doesn’t know if this is double glass but he is praying that it isn’t otherwise he’s screwed.  
Zachariah makes another move to grab him, charging towards him and Castiel dodges him again, putting himself exactly where he had started. Near the chair that they made him sat on.  
Quickly he grabs the stapler on the desk and throws it as hard and precisely as he can at Zachariah’s head, using the distraction to pick up the chair and some memento before he throws it against the glass wall.  
Naomi’s eyes go wide for a second before Uriel pulls her out of the way and turns them both around, shielding her with his body as the glass wall breaks into a thousand pieces, the chair landing on the other side with a loud thud and the clinking of the glass.  
Castiel doesn’t lose time, he jumps through the glass mess and thanks God for the small fact that he still has his shoes on.  
And then he runs, as fast as he can, going the way back to the basement with absolutely zero idea of how he’ll save Samandriel, but absolutely sure that he can’t leave him behind.  
He makes a left and then a right and turns left again. He knows he has a good memory but he’s not absolutely sure that his mind is too reliable right now. He’ starved and tired and poor Samandriel must be a hundred times worse.  
It takes him about five full minutes to finally find the stairway that leads to the basement and when he does he’s short of breath and panting a little bit. He can feel his thighs ache in protests because going from being almost immobilized for twenty four hours to a frenetic race is not in accord with them.  
He climbs down the stairs two at a time and jumps into room.  
“Sam.” He hisses into the room urgently.  
“Cas!” Samandriel sobs and damn it, he sounds wrecked “You’re alive.”  
“Of course I’m alive you idiot.” He chastises “Now come on. I’ll get us out of here.”  
“But, Cas-“  
Castiel shushes him before he can speak, moving around the room, to the corner where there’s the blood stained table and the cuffs because he could swear he had seen a crowbar somewhere in there earlier and there it is!  
Cas almost whoops with joy, except they have no time to loose so he grabs it and jogs back towards Sam where he promptly shoves it against the link that’s connecting it to the shackle and levers it, putting all of his weight into it, until the metal groans and snaps and Samandriel is finally free.  
Cas pulls him to his feet quickly and drags him along.  
That’s when he registers that he should’ve been followed, that there should be someone trying to stop him from escaping. Sure that he’s fast, but the entire way here he hadn’t heard a single step racing after him.  
He decides to ignore that in lieu of getting the fuck out of there.  
“Cas!” Sam urges, leaning heavily against the older boy.  
Castiel grunts a bit and decides that when they get back Sam is definitely cutting back on the desserts. All that pie can’t be good for him.  
And of course that thinking about pie will make him think about Dean. About where he is now and if he’s safe or not. And Cas hopes with all he’s got that Dean and Sammy and Gabriel and Balthazar and every single one of his brothersand sisters are safe and sound.   
He told Dean once that he should cut back on the pie and the other boy had opened his mouth in utter shock and accused bloody murder promptly taking his pie out of Castiel’s reach and cradling the plate against his chest protectively.  
Samandriel trips over one of the steps and Cas snaps his attention back to the job at hand, holding onto Sam tightly and maintaining him upright before the boy can make a swan dive face first for the concrete steps.  
“Come on.” He urges the boy because fuck they are in danger. This is the fucking mob for crying out loud.  
They reach the top of the stairs and Castiel is a little lost as where to go now, because he has no idea where the main entrance or the back entrance or whatever direction has a fucking entrance and where they should head now.  
The best he can do is head opposite from where he came, so he holds tightly against Samandriel and runs towards what he expects is the exit.  
They run as fast as Samandriel can without starting to trip over himself. Cas has to give the boy some points for being able to run after so long without eating or drinking. The poor thing must be starved.  
They keep running until the hallway twists to the left.  
Castiel makes them slow down and carefully approach the corner. He grabs the front of Sam’s shirt and makes him stay back while he carefully tiptoes to the corner and peeks over the side.  
No one there.  
“Clear.” He whispers to Sam, pushing him along and turning the corner.  
“Can’t- can’t run- anymore.” The little boy gasps, so Cas slows their pace down, settling by walking fast instead of outright running.  
The new hallway his wider than the previous with a big stairway in the middle before it continues for what Castiel guesses is the other wing of the house-mansion-whatever. They proceed carefully through it, because this part of the house seems bustling with noise. Fast passed steps and the sound of hushed voices.  
“There’s people down there.” Samandriel whispers, glaring at the stairway.  
“There’s probably also a door that leads outside.” he counters, because he knows that maybe, just maybe they can get past the people and run away from this shithole and back to their family.  
They slow down even more when they reach the stairway, carefully, bending over the corner and looking down at the downstairs floor.  
He half expects to find armed guards with assault rifles pointed at them, or Zachariah looking pissed, but what he finds throws him for a loop and he carefully steps forward looking down at the kids who are apparently waiting for them in the bottom of the stairway.  
“Cas.” Sam urges, putting himself behind Castiel.  
“Oh. You’re here.” A girl smiles up at him, a little bit strained and with such sorrow in her eyes “I’m Tessa.” She introduces herself “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Castiel.”  
“How do you know my name?” and how many times will he have to repeat that exact same question.  
One of the other kids beams at him “You broke Naomi’s office window. Of course we know your name.”  
“Inias.” A blonde girl chastises, throwing him a look worthy of a churchgoer who just heard her kid blaspheme.  
The boy smiles a little wider and shrugs, looking up at Cas and Samandriel.  
“And that’s Samandriel, right?” the boy continues.  
Samandriel peeks from behind Cas and waves his hand “Hi.”  
“Why don’t you join us?” Tessa prompts “We have water and food for you. All that running must have tired you.”  
Castiel takes a step back. This isn’t right. This can’t possibly be right. Because if these kids know what he’s doing and why he’s been running and they’re looking so at ease in here then they should be trying to stop him.  
Samandriel steps from behind Cas and climbs down one step.  
“Sam.” He hisses.  
Samandriel takes another step down the marble stairway, his little chubby hand gripping the golden banister.  
“They’re nice.” He tells him with the absolute certainty that only a six year old has about things “And they have food Castiel. They want to help.” He tells pleadingly.  
Castiel throws the people downstairs a cautious look. There are four of them Tessa and Inias and the two blond girls, one of them taller than the other and more serious.  
He takes a step down and then another, cautiously going towards them. He can see the front door from here.  
Samandriel beams up at him and grabs a hold of is hand pulling him along towards the prospect of water and food.  
Castiel follows, tracking each and every movement the others make and throwing glances at the double doors that lead to freedom.  
Maybe, if he’s really fast –and he is – he can get past all of them and reach the doors. The question is: can he do it and take Samandriel with him at the same time?  
“There are guards outside, Castiel.” Tessa says calmly.  
“If you try to make a move out the door you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.” One of the blonde girls states matter-of-factly, giving Cas what approaches a pitying look “I’m Hester, by the way.” She adds as an afterthought.  
“Rachel.” The other girl proclaims quietly.  
Castiel drags his eyes back towards them and nods once.  
They could be bluffing. He knows that they could be bluffing. But they can also be telling the truth and if there are guards just outside the door then there wouldn’t be any point in running.  
Samandriel pulls him by the hand insistently, following Tessa and Rachel who lead the group through a door, Inias and Hester behind Castiel and Sam.  
They’re blocking his way out, circling around him in a strategic move that seems almost mindless to them.  
“Where did you come from?” he asks curiously.  
The kids that act like a small organized army.  
“The orphanage of Fifth.” Inias supplies easily.  
“Same.” Rachel throws over her back.  
“I came from the one on Limbo Street.” Tessa replies in her soothing voice.  
“Haven Street.” Hester states calmly.  
“You were kidnaped.” Castiel clarifies, eyebrows shooting up. He doesn’t understand. Why aren’t they trying to run away? Why are they not trying to get back?  
Tessa leads them to a table and sits down prompting Cas and Sam to follow her example.  
Inias sits beside Castiel and Hester sits beside Tessa in the opposite of the table whilst Rachel disappears through a door next to the fridges that if Cas would have to hazard a guess he’d say it’s the pantry.  
Hester is shaking her head at him firmly “We weren’t kidnaped, Castiel. We were saved.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry.

He feels trapped. He knows he’s trapped. The kids are surrounding him, each of them in strategic places to cut off his exit.

Castiel is a hundred per cent sure that if he tries anything, anything at all, he’ll be tackled to the ground and beaten to a pulp.

He has to try, though. He has to get out of here as fast as he can before he turns into one of them.

There’s toast and a glass of water placed in front of him and he’s not quite sure what to do with it. After all, nothing guarantees that it isn’t poisoned, drugged up, spiked, whatever you want to call it.

“You should eat,” Tessa advices, “They were very impressed with your demonstration.”

“Yeah, no one has actually tried to run off in years,” Inias pipes in with a smile.

“They were smarter than that. Zachariah will be pissed,” Hester comments uninterestedly, looking at her nails critically.

Castiel scoots back in his seat, still eyeing the offering carefully.

His stomach complains loudly and he hasn’t eaten in so long. So, so long.

Throwing caution out the window, Cas reaches forward and grabs his slice of toast, biting into it carefully, and it tastes so good he takes another bite of it almost without meaning to. In a flash, he eats the entire thing and reaches for the water, drinking it down.

“What’ll happen to me?” he finally asks.

“They will punish you for escaping, of course. And then you and Samandriel will be trained and taught Heaven’s rules.” It’s Tessa who answers him, eyes staring somewhere past Cas’s shoulder, expression neutral and numb.

“Trained?” Sam asks, scooting forward in his seat, chubby hands flat on the table for balance.

“You will be taught how to shoot a gun, how to wield a knife, how to fight. After all, you are now soldiers of the Heavenly Host and you should fight for us.”

Castiel stares at Rachel, eyes wide and fearful.

They want him to kill someone. They want to teach him how to kill someone. He won’t do that. He won’t!

“No!” he says, shaking his head frantically “I won’t kill anyone. That’s not me. I won’t do it!”

Tessa gives him a little sad smile “You will.”

Cas swallows hard, the adrenaline wore off and his battle calm has disappeared leaving behind the frantic, scared little boy who was kidnapped and ripped away from his home and from his brothers and from Dean.

“I don’t want to kill anyone either,” Samandriel whispers, getting off his chair and reaching out for Cas, hand curling around his forearm “Don’t make me,” he begs, bottom lip quivering.

“No one will make you do anything,” Castiel assures, because now. Now he really fucking needs to get out of here. This is worse than he thought it could ever be.

The others are still looking at him, paying attention to his every move, every twitch and he can’t help but think that it was really fucking dumb to let the little cult kids get a hold of him and Samandriel in the first place. He should’ve just kept running along that corridor and looked for an exit.

Now, now it’s too late to think what ifs. Now he needs another strategy to cross those double doors and make his way into freedom, or die trying.

“The question here, Castiel, is not if you have balls to try to escape,” Hester starts saying slowly, eyes still on her nails, blowing on them like that can do shit (he never understood why people in movies did that), a slow smile on her face “the question is if you’re enough of a dick to leave your little friend behind. Because I can assure you there is a way out and I also can assure you that they’ll catch you and Sam and they’ll kill him. They won’t kill you, because you are way too important for them to do that, but they’ll kill him and make you watch. And I can also assure you that that will fuck up with your head and that you’ll never try to escape again. What’s the point of going back outside if you’ve got the blood of a child in your hands, after all?”

Hester looks up at him then, blue eyes staring, and Castiel almost shivers with how much cold detachment there is in them. How all the life seems to have been sucked out of her, leaving this cold shell of a girl. That’s all she is, when you look at it. Just a girl.

Tessa places a calming hand on Hester’s shoulder “So far Rachel and Inias are the only ones to have come from the same orphanage and made it out,” she whispers “You should give in. It’ll be easier on all of us.”

Samandriel is clutching at his forearm tightly now, Cas slowly gets up from his chair, eyeing the others around him and puts an arm over Samandriel protectively.

He’s about to get up. Do something – anything! – when Zachariah bursts through the kitchen door, panting slightly and with murder in his eyes.

“There you are,” Zachariah growled, lunging forward and grabbing Cas by the front of his shirt, giving him a firm shake before his fist connected with Cas’s jaw “You little bitch, think you can get away like that?” he sneers down at him, sending Cas sprawling against the table and fists going to work on him.

He can hear Samandriel crying faintly, somewhere in the room, everything else his unbearable pain that has him crying out, trying to double over and curl in on himself. Get away from it.

“Enough,” Naomi’s clipped voice announces and the hand holding Castiel up lets go. He slumps to the floor, hits his head on the corner of a chair along the way.

“Cas!” Sam says. And he knows it’s Sam because of the shrilly voice and quiet sobs that are coming from the younger boy. Everyone else in the room is standing calmly over him.

Samandriel crouches beside him, little chubby hands framing his face even has Cas whimpers pitifully.

“Pick him up, bring him to the training room,” Naomi says “the little one too.”

The next thing Cas knows there are two sets of hands hauling him up and dragging him to the supposed training room. The kids grab Samandriel when Zachariah tells them too and drag him along, kicking and crying.

He wishes he could say he remembers the exact path they took to this new room, but he can’t. Not when his head his swimming, the world seems to be tilting on it’s axis and Castiel can barely keep his feet under himself letting them drag through the floor and thrusting Zachariah and Uriel to do all the work.

He gets dumped against a wall, or maybe it’s a mirror. He only knows that it’s smooth and cold and his head hurts that little bit more when he hits it against whatever it is supporting him. The floor is soft though, maybe mattresses like the ones Ellen kept in a closet for when they had impromptu sparring lessons outside.

He remembers watching Dean take Balthazar down in one of those mattresses, laughing victoriously and throwing Castiel a wink, blowing him a kiss just before Balthazar managed to elbow him in his private parts.

Cas had never seen anyone play dirtier in a fight than Balthazar.

_“I’m going to kill him someday, Cas, I swear to God I will” Dean had growled afterwards, still doubled over and with his hands over his nuts, wincing. Cas patted him on the back sympathetically, before leaning down and dropping a kiss on Cas’ chick._

_Dean turned wide eyes on him, a beaming smile and suddenly all the pain seemed to be gone._

Dean – Cas thinks now. He’ll miss Dean and Dean’ll probably miss him too, even if it’s just for a little while before letting some pretty young thing take his mind off of it.

But that’s just his negative part talking, the annoying voice in his head always poking and jabbing telling him he was probably going to die soon, singing _this is it, this is it now are you ready?_ when he got close to it.

The positive side of him, the one who likes to think about Dean and the boys’ antics in the orphanage, that part is rooting for him, urging him on, telling him without the shadow of a doubt that he’ll manage it. And even if he doesn’t, Dean will come to his rescue. He said so himself.

_Even if they take you, no matter which one of them, I’ll come back._

He keeps his faith that Dean will save him.

«»

There’s hushed voices coming from his right, words that he can’t quite get from where he’s slumped against the wall/mirror, possibly concussed and almost sure that he’s about to throw up.

“He won’t break.” he hears, clear and vehement. Zachariah maybe. Cas could almost congratulate him on being right, you know, if he wasn’t such a dickhead, as it his he just tries to pry his eyes open and find Samandriel.

He finds him sniffling softly in a corner, Inias and Hester on each side of him, keeping him from escaping.

He looks up at them, Inias with a look of disteaste on his face, like he’d rather be anywhere else than right here where he is, doing what he is doing. Hester looks apathic, eyes looking front at nothing in particular, hands clasped behind her back.

Castiel watches as Naomi comes forwards, pulling Hester aside and telling her something, something that makes the girl gasp and shake her head vehemently, throwing a worried look towards Cas and then Samandriel and back at Cas.

Naomi presses her lips in a thin line, grabbing a hold of Hester’s arm and jerking her forward. He threatens her. That much Cas gets, from the way Hester recoils and from the naked fear in her eyes.

She nods and goes back to Inias, mutter something and Inias frowns at her, but nods and goes away.

He then watches as Hester proceeds to grab Samandriel by his arm and hauling him up, dragging him somewhere Castiel can’t see.

He clenches his teeth and tries to get up, both hands firmly pressed against the floor and for impulse, leaning heavily on the wall – it’s definitely a wall – to keep himself upright once he manages to get his feet under him.

He doesn’t get far though, maybe a couple of steps before Zachariah is snatching him up and blindfolding, grabbing him by the back of his neck and marching him somewhere, not being too careful to keep Castiel from hitting furniture and walls and doors.

When they finally get wherever they are supposed to be something is thrust into Castiel’s hands. It’s cold, probably metal. Cas feels it up, traces the edges of what is clearly a gun. He gasps and tries to give it back.

“Make you a deal,” Naomi says, too close to his ear, making Cas jump, the gun almost dropping to the floor “there’s a piglet in front of you Castiel. Kill it and I’ll send Samandriel home.”

“How do I know you will?” he asks, gulps down and braces himself for a blow that never comes.

“You don’t,” Naomi says simply “but kill the thing in front of you and I’ll be sure Samandriel gets sent back. Besides wouldn’t you like to risk it? Life for a life. It doesn’t sound half bad does it?” she taunts, waves the prize in front of his eyes and convinces him of it.

It’s a good deal. Great even. Decidedly too good to be true, but at the prospect of having Samandriel safe and sound back home, where certainly someone will find him and take good care of him deals him in almost immediately.

And it’s just a piglet after all, nothing he can’t handle.

He remembers Dean telling all about hunting animals and how uncle Bobby and his dad enjoyed doing it but he didn’t because of something called Bambi.

It’s not that hard. Just a pig. Dean would have done it in a heartbeat.

Cas takes a steading breath, and points his gun slightly at the floor in front of him.

He’s blindfolded and with no way of knowing if he can hit his mark or not, but he&rsquory. For Samandriel he’ll try.

And wait just a fucking second! He has a gun. All that he has to do his rip off his blindfold fast enough and shoot them and then he can get away.

He can just threaten them with the gun, probably won’t have to shoot anyone even.

Castiel raises his gun more confidently, begins to turn  when something cold his pressed against his temple.

“Don’t even think about it,” Uriel says calmly.

Fuck. Fuck shit godamn tit.

He has no choice then. Better get this over with and just shoot the motherfucking pig.

He brings his other hand up and grips the gun like Dean thought him, feels for the trigger and gently squeezes it,

He’s expecting the gun to kick back so it doesn’t faze him much.

“Again,” Naomi demands “empty the clip, Castiel.” And he does, shooting bullet after bullet, changing the angle to it hits almost every space in front of him, increasing his chances of shooting the god damn piglet.

He shoots until there are no more bullets and the clip is empty, until Zachariah pries the gun from his hands.

“You did good, Castiel,” Naomi praises, cold fingers, too thin to belong to either of the man, touch his temple briefly, prying the blindfold off of him so Cas can see his handy work.

As soon as his eyes adjust to the light, he gasps and falls to his knees, a sob ripping out of his throat as he stares and stares in utter disbelief.

“I told you he would break,” Naomi says absently, turning around and walking away, heels clicking on the floor even as Castiel stares and stares, his brain trying to assimilate the image in front of him.

The reality of what he just did washing down on him.

Samandriel, his baby brother Samandriel for whom he risked everything, is laying on the floor, wholes on his belly and legs and collarbone, bleeding through, soaking him up. Blue eyes wide and unmoving but still staring accusatorily at Castiel, mouth slightly open.

He did that. He killed his brother.

Castiel cries. He cries at the atrocity he just committed, he cries because he mourns his baby brother, he cries because of his own death, he cries in farewell to the boy Cas who smiles and likes to stare into green eyes and left in his place Castiel, the soulless monster that cut a deal for a boy, a kid, a child with the full believe that he was saving him when he was signing his death sentence, becoming at once judge and executioner.

When Zachariah and Uriel haul him up to his feet and try to pull him away he goes willingly, throwing one last glance at what he did, before letting his head drop and accepting his faith.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, all mistakes are mine and mine alone.  
> And I'm really sorry that I suck at updating, but I'm sure it's still tuesday somewhere even though here is rounding two am.  
> Have fun with this on y'all, fair warning there's a few time jumps ahead.

Days pass and he doesn’t utter another sound. Not when Naomi screams at him to answer him, not when Zachariah points a gun at his forehead, cocks it and smiles wide and twisted. Not when Inias hugs him and gently prompts him. Not when Naomi slaps him.

He keeps quiet. There’s absolutely nothing he can say that is worth. He’s a beast, a monster, a child killer. He’s their attack dog, being train to go for the neck and bite down, shake until they bleed out under him.

Murderer murderer muderer.

On the other hand, he eats when he’s told to, sleeps when he’s told to, hits when he’s told to. Perfect little soldier Castiel, is what he becomes.

Naomi starts to favor him over the others, because he doesn’t back talk, he doesn’t look at her in uncertainty when she tells them they have to do something wrong. He stares blankly ahead and does it.

In return, sometimes Naomi brings him books. Stories that he piles under his bed without ever glancing at them. Words are power. Books have the ability to take you another place and if he breaks off his stupor he’s not sure he wouldn’t just pick one of the guns they let him carry around and shoot himself in the face.

One particular day, when Zachariah’s pissed off for whatever reason, he comes to Castiel and pushes him down on the floor, yells at him for a couple of minutes telling how much of a piece of trash he was. He already knows it. Knows all of what he’s saying his true, so he settles for just looking up at him blankly and taking it, after all what else could he do.

“Perfect little fucking soldier,” Zachariah sneers down at him “you’re nothing but a dog, Castiel. A pet Naomi chose to keep for whatever reason. Once you get flees you’ll see how she throws you away. Once you slip, you’ll see how she’ll take you out back and shoot you, boy.” He’s panting a little when he finishes a look of pure disgust on his face as he stares down at Castiel, and then he adds “Speak, dog.”

Castiel blinks and looks him right in the eye, pulling his lips over his teeth in a snarl “Woof,” he says.

He’s just the attack dog. They say speak, he’ll fucking speak.

To his surprise Zachariah smiles at him, looking please with whatever he just got Castiel to do. Honestly he’s too tired, too numb for their shit mind games. He picks himself back up as soon as Zachariah turns on his heels and leaves him be.

“Everything okay?” Inias tries, tilting his head slightly, a worried smile hanging on his lips.

He nods and walks away. Castiel doesn’t need his concern.

Three or four months into his lovely stay in Heaven’s facilities – he knows it’s Heaven once he heard about Michael and the low snarls with which they referred to Lucifer – Naomi orders his first hit. Gives him a gun and takes him to the basement where there’s some poor bastard hanging from the wall, already broken and bruised and bloody.

“Kill him Castiel,” she orders, eyes trained on him.

Castiel takes a good look at the man in front of him. He’s tall, olive skin, strong features, great jaw.

His name is Jake, if he heard correctly the hushed conversations in the hallway.

He doesn’t know what he did and part of him thinks he should care, but he really doesn’t. Cocks his gun, aims for the chest and presses the trigger, hitting the man square in the chest, quick and painless.

Naomi makes a little pleased sound in the back of her throat, pats Castiel on the shoulder and turns, prompting him to follow her.

She leads him to her office and orders him to sit so he does.

“You’re doing so good, Castiel,” she praises, but he doesn’t really care about what she thinks. He does what he has to and that’s that “Zachariah has told me about your altercation and I would like to offer you a deal.”

Castiel pulls his lips over his teeth, almost snarling at the woman. He knows how well deals go with her.

Naomi ignore him like she usually does “I’ll make you Mr. Godson’s body guard. You’re young, but you show such promise, Castiel. I think you’d be a great addition to Michael’s little army.”

Castiel remains quiet.

“We raise soldiers here, Castiel. It is our business to make sure the people we send Michael’s way are dedicated to the cause. Are you dedicated to the cause?”

He merely blinks.

Naomi stares him down. Castiel could laugh at that, she won’t be able to uncover anything from staring. There’s nothing to uncover. He’s an attack animal, nothing else.

The woman presses her lips together and opens a drawer on her polished desk, manicured nails sinking in and surfacing again with a collar, a black thing with spikes, a perfectly round tag hanging from the front. He tilts his head and squints, trying to read what the hell is written there.

It’s his name, he realizes. _Castiel_ , neatly engraved in the metal.

Naomi sighs exasperatedly “This is your problem right here. You have no drive, Castiel. No _will_.”

He raises his eyebrows slightly. That’s exactly what they train them to be, will-less sacks of flesh, good little toy soldiers parading around with their guns and shooting down people for the sake of a cause everyone has already forgot how it started in the first place.

“Michael _would_ like to have someone like you in the front lines, but I don’t think you are ready yet.”

Castiel swallows down a smile. Naomi’s fucking terrible at repressing lust. Not for him, he doesn’t think that woman has it in her to lust after care, after love. But to lust after power, to be greedy and use her assets right, play the game until she’s the last one standing.

For what he figures, he’s an asset and a great one at that. The entire you are not ready yet talk it’s complete bullshit given that Naomi just doesn’t want to let him go.

Quiet little soldier, good attack dog Castiel.

She slowly gets up, heels clicking on the tiles, stepping behind Castiel and looping the collar around his neck, and that’s the thing that gives her away. The need to show possession over him.

It’s with practiced fingers that she slides the buckle into place, letting the leather settle on the base of his throat, the metal tag cold against his collar bone.

“I’ll hold onto you until you’re ready. After all, you are special, Castiel.”

Except she holds on to him and never lets him go. Orders him to kill and to beat up and to torture. Other kids come and go and Castiel stays. He always stays.

At some point, between his sixteenth and seventeenth birthday – he doesn’t keep a good notion of time – he even starts training the kids that come in. All of them so young, teary eyed and cowering when they see him.

Sometimes he remembers when he was tied up to that same wall, just a kid himself, trying to reassure his baby brother that it’d be fine and then he promptly represses those memories. Nothing good would come of remembering.

But other times, well, other times, when he’s asleep and his subconscious takes hold, he can’t help but remember. He dreams of bright blue eyes and chubby hands clutching at him, he dreams of blood and death, he dreams of older brothers and love, he dreams of the brightest green eyes staring up at him, crinkling in the corners when he laughs, freckles over his cheeks and a strong jaw, a dazzling smile, showing teeth and lighting up the green of his eyes because those smiles are the genuine smiles. He dreams of Dean, and as soon as he wakes up, he makes sure to drink down a glass of water and run laps on around the grounds.

The times he dreams are the worst. He much prefers when he falls on his face on the hard mattress and gives in to exhaustion. Those are the good nights. The fucking amazing nights.

He hits seventeen and there’s a growing tension. Something in the air that makes it electric, the taste of danger and change just out of reach but coming soon, oh! coming so soon.

Castiel can feel it, see it in the way Naomi calls for meetings all the way, and how the number of guards has increased. Hushed whispers around the corridors amongst the staff about fires, about rebellion, about free will.

Normally, he would pay no mind to it, but familiar names start to arise in those hushed conversations.

“You heard how they burned one of Hell’s warehouses down” they’ll say

“How scandalous, that Gabriel. I heard he’s the leader.”

“No I heard it’s a Winchester something leading the entire thing.”

”They’ll end up death for sure.”

”But haven’t you heard how one of them got captured by Hell’s best and next thing they know, he was rescued and the placed burned down.”

”Burning everything down, those vandals. I heard that there’s messages left on the wall.”

”Yes, but what kind of messages?”

”Nonsense stuff. Teenager gibberish.”

”I heard they write it in every building they burn down THOSE WHO DON’T BUILD MUST BURN.”

All of these he catches while he’s walking down hallways, making his usual laps around the grounds, beating some poor thing up.

The last one though. The last one, makes him come to a stop, because there’s something about it that sounds vaguely familiar. Takes him back to when he was still Cas. And not good boy Castiel, attack dog Castiel, good fucking soldier Castiel.

Something that’s poking at his memory until he gets a headache. He can’t remember for the life of him where the fuck it’s from, but whatever it is, he knows it’s important. So very important.

It’s not until about a week later that he remembers where it’s from, and he only does it by chance. One of the cleaning ladies had left the books he so meticulously hides under the bed on the top of it.

The book in questions falls to his hands by accident. _Fahrenheit 451_ falls to the floor in a heap when Castiel accidentally topples over a pile of books.

He grabs it and turns it in his hands. He knows this book. It’s important to him.

So he opens it. The first book he dared to open in years and skims it, his eyes falling randomly on that passage.

“Those who don’t build, must burn” it says and he remembers Dean saying something about it faintly.

“They don’t build anything Cas, they’re too busy in their petty wars to take notice of the mess this town has become. And they can’t build, so they burn. They burning anything that they find, families, buildings, each other and sometimes they only do it for the hell of it.”

Castiel takes a deep breath. Those who don’t build must burn. That’s what he’s doing. He’s _burning_ anything and everything he can, everything he’s _ordered_ to.

He swallows hard, and shit no. He’s waking up he’s waking up this is no good. He wants to go back to sleep. Numb. He needs to be numb again, because numbs good. Numb allows him to do the job. Numb allows him to ignore all the blood on his hands.

Castiel resolutely throws his book – the book, not his book, the book – under his bed and walks away.

That’s for the better. Dean probably forgot him.

He forgets about it, or he tries to.

A couple of weeks pass and the air around him becomes decidedly heavier. There’s something brewing just out of sight and when it hits, Castiel is sure that it’s going to be a shitstorm. The leave on survivors kind.

Naomi’s been tense lately, more so than usually. Good ol’ Zach and Uriel have been gone for a week now.

That day, Castiel wakes up to the return of the prodigal sons who come with such pleased smiles that he knows they were up to no good shit and that it’ll somehow come down on him.

His suspicions are only confirmed when by nightfall Naomi invites him down to the basement, some poor schmuck hanging in the middle of the room, bruises all over his torso and blood dripping down from his nose, head hanging, bangs falling over his eyes, so Castiel can’t see his features.

“Oh, how delightful of you to join us,” Naomi snaps, raising a perfect eyebrow at him, he stares her down like usual, keeps his mouth shut like he has the past three years or so, he’s not really sure how long it has been, but he bets that three years sound about right.

“He won’t talk. Make him,” she orders “I’ll be back in an hour, try not to beat him up too hard. Oh, and Castiel,” the guy hanging twitches at that, head snapping up and incredibly green eyes staring right into him.

He stops breathing.

“Dean,” he breathes and fuck that was a mistake. Naomi stops midsentence, head snapping towards Cas, a cruel smile curling the edge of her lips, and trying her damnest to keep the surprise out of her eyes.

Understandable, after all he hasn’t spoken in years.

“What did you say?” she prompts, circling Castiel like a shark “Castiel speak,” she demands.

He dips his eyes down and presses his lips together “Woof.”

Dean looks at him confusedly, worriedly, hopefully and shit he can’t bear, can’t fucking bear it.

He throws the first punch, landing neatly on Dean’s stomach, all of his being rebelling against the action. He wants to throw up and that’s new. It’s been a long time since anything he’s done has made him wanna throw up.

But Naomi’s still staring at him intently, so he punches Dean again on the cheek, careful not to hit anything that’ll cause permanent damage.

Naomi seems convinced at that, humming disinterestedly and turning on her heels “Guess it doesn’t matter,” she mutters “as I was saying, don’t get blood on your collar, Castiel, you know how hard it is to wash.”

He only lifts his eyes back up to Dean when he hears the doors close.

“Dean,” he says urgently, because shit what the hell is he doing here? Cas frames Dean’s face in his hands, thumb brushing where he had struck him just now.

This is wrong. Dean should be leading a rebellion or whatever the fuck he had been doing all this time, not being captured by Heaven’s douchiest soldiers.

And he can’t be here for Castiel, he just can’t. Castiel is filth, he’s a best, a monster, a murderer, the thing that made little kids wet their fucking pants as soon as they saw he was the one they were getting in training.

He was Heaven’s pet with all the neat tricks, the deathly tricks, he sure as shit doesn’t deserve Dean to be here for him and yet-

Yet this man, this beautiful man who changed so much and yet not at all in the years that have passed – same green eyes, same freckles, same lips – smiles at him, broken and bloody and mutters, wheezes really “Told you I’d come for you, Cas.”


End file.
